salt-shaker.blog

If you are a nice comfortable Christian you make not want to read this. You are probably a better person than I am. The theologians in the audience may want to pass also.

Sudden or subtle, by degrees or by impact, you find yourself observing rather than engaging. On the surface your life has not changed, but emotional emptiness, intellectual withdrawal, or spiritual uncertainty clouds and reconfigures your perspective. You are “the other”, you no longer fit in. As you look ahead, the path that once seemed so bright is now shrouded in fog, tedious rather than beckoning. As you look back the road is littered with disappointments and missteps, shattered dreams and failures. You were misunderstood and you made mistakes, hurting the very ones you were trying to help. You missed the warning signs. You begin to realize that your lofty intentions were mingled with pride and insecurity as well as faith and love.

In this unsettled state of mind you diminish or outright dismiss the triumphs and the positives. Oh yes, your spiritual self on your best days knew that the way would be narrow, steep, and difficult. You expected setback. In your zeal to serve the Lord you welcomed the challenge and pressed on. But now – you wonder. You’re pretty sure it is silly to keep going. After all, what if this whole Jesus thing was just some spiritual hype that you bought into on the waves of your idealism. Jesus was so tangible when you first met Him. He was your faithful friend for so long, but now He seems withdrawn, remote. Doubt and discontent have festered in an unaddressed undercurrent in your soul. The reality pressing in now is that thing – whatever it is – a random comment, a slight, an unwarranted accusation, one more unanswered prayer, the rejection of unsaved friends you respect because of a doctrine you don’t even hold, somebody else blessed instead of you (again), the terminal illness of a dear friend, the undeserved suffering of a child, the shame you bear from association with an unwise fellow believer, the neglect of people you poured you life into, or – you name it. So here you are face to face with unbelief as a viable option. An attractive option. If not out and out apostasy, resentment and withdrawal seem like suitable responses. Reasonable even. Desirable perhaps.

Have you been there? If not I hope you are some day. Then you too can wrestle with God like Jacob did. Down in the mud. To pin God – to make Him play by your rules, if even for just a moment. To get answers for the apparent inconsistencies, injustice, abandonment, confusion, misunderstandings, hopelessness, helplessness – the dark side of faith. To challenge His plans, His permissions, His promises.

You may now be closing this page to avoid a thunderbolt. Please notice that I am still here. God was not offended. (I think I like that the best about Him.) I’m patiently pursuing the path of life. Still praising the One Who won the wrestling match. Still ravished by His care – The One Who gave me a limp – along with an anchor for my soul. The One Who lifted my head to see Him and my heart to welcome Him. Who held me tightly in my despair and reminded me He can put streams in the desert and make dead bones live. The One Who collects every one of my tears and keeps them in a special bottle, probably so each can be traded for glory in the world to come. The One Who knows my name, Who calls my name, Who wrote my name with nails on His hands. Who wrote it in a book that will be opened in His kingdom. The One Who will say my name before His Father and the holy angels. The One Who spoke kindly rather than condemn me for my insolence. Who welcomed my grief so He could carry it.

I realized the Gospel that I embraced to save my immortal soul had imperceptibly drifted into trusting my work instead of His. I forgot that I brought nothing to the table in the first place but my need. Service, devotion, and study became the end instead of the expression. They are miserable substitutes for being embraced with the fathomless forgiveness of Love Itself. Actually they are demanding taskmasters, requiring God to mold Himself into my image of Him (idolatry) and ravaging my faith when He graciously will not conform to my petulant insistence that He bow to my version of holiness. Thank God (literally) that He is longsuffering with such foolishness! He is enough! He is worthy of my allegiance, frail and faulty as it is. Wonder of wonders – He cherishes it. And it is my honor and delight to give it – even with mud on my face, maybe especially because of it. That’s praise an angel can’t even give.

“He walks with me and He talks with me and tells me I am His own! And the joys we share as we tarry there – none other, has ever known.” C. Austin Miles